joked, “I don’t know. J-Lo and the twins?” Celebrity gossip didn’t interest him, but Payton made it her business to know what was happening in the lives of the rich and famous. It didn’t matter how many times he told her he didn’t care where Bono ate lunch or who Naomi Campbell had bitch-slapped, she chattered incessantly about her favorite stars as if they were her closest friends.
“You’ll never guess who it is.” Before he could even begin to think of an answer, she screamed, “It’s Tangela!”
“My Tangela?” Warrick didn’t catch his mistake until he noticed the amused expressions on the women’s faces. Coughing to hide his discomfort, he helped himself to a disposable cup and filled it with water from the cooler positioned against the wall. “Isn’t that something?” His smile was superficial. No teeth, no shine, no light. “Good for her. That’s great.”
“I’d say. She’s lost almost eighty pounds!”
“What!” Water sloshed over his cup and splashed onto the tiled floor. “That’s impossible. Tangela was never fat, she was thick and curvy and…” Images of her supple breasts, wide hips and mile-long legs flashed in his mind, derailing his thoughts. “It can’t be,” he managed, coming to. “Maybe the woman just looks like Tangela.”
Payton grunted. “You guys dated for seven years. I know what she looks like.”
Warrick considered her words. He wasn’t questioning his assistant’s intelligence, but he knew his ex-girlfriend wasn’t on the cover of some cheap tabloid. Losing eighty pounds in two years was an impossible feat. No way she’d subject herself to a strict, point-counting diet. Tangela loved food. Buying it, cooking it, eating it. Despite what health gurus and nutritionists said, she wasn’t addicted to food and would tell friends and family, “I’m not an emotional eater. I just love fried chicken!”
It’s not her, he decided, convinced his assistant had downed one too many mojitos last night during happy hour. Besides, Tangela didn’t need to lose weight. Not a single pound. She was perfect from the top of her pretty little head to the bottom of her dainty size-seven feet. “There’s no way she’d go on one of those extreme diets or—”
“Oh, it’s her, all right. But don’t take my word for it,” she said, dangling the magazine in front of his face. “See for yourself.”
Holy shit! Eyes bright, jaw slack, Warrick stared mutely at his ex-girlfriend’s image. Blood stopped flowing to his brain and he felt as though his mouth was packed with salt. A harsh acerbic foam coated his tongue. He’d hoped she’d gained weight, gotten her nose pierced—which he’d been firmly against—or chopped off her hair. But she hadn’t. Not only was she a shadow of her former self, she’d grown her hair long, wore natural-looking makeup and had milky-white teeth. Warrick didn’t think it was possible, but Tangela was even more striking.
“I’d kill to look like that,” one of the women announced.
“I think she’s too thin,” criticized another. “Tangela’s always been pretty—she didn’t need to lose all that weight.”
Warrick agreed. Two years ago, Tangela had been curvy and voluptuous, like his favorite American Idol, Jennifer Hudson, and now she was a stick figure. Since he could remember, he’d always had a thing for “healthy” women. Broomstick-thin types who graced movie screens and magazine covers didn’t impress him. He appreciated an athletic physique as much as the next man, but he loved hips and thighs and butt and his ex-fiancée used to have it all.
Dropping his empty cup in the wastebasket, he leaned against his desk for support. Colors and images and objects collided in his brain and his chest inflated as though he was holding his breath underwater. With much difficulty, he focused his eyes on the cover. The words Amazing Weight-Loss Stories were splashed across the page in thick bold letters and Tangela stood proudly in a skimpy, lime-green bikini. We dated for seven years and I never saw her in anything but a boring one-piece! Her smile was bold, suggesting a wild, playful side and stirred repressed memories in him. Emotions he didn’t have a name for rose to the surface at the mere sight of her.
Senses sharper than a comic-book character, he examined the People magazine cover in acute detail. Everything about Tangela was gorgeous. The ultrastraight auburn hair, the shiny lipstick, the hoop earrings. Hands propped audaciously on her hips, shoulders thrown back, chin tilted in supreme confidence, she radiated an inner beauty that literally took his breath away. Warrick didn’t need to peek inside Tangela’s head to know what she was thinking. Her eyes shone with mischief, her cleavage was blinding and he’d never seen her skin look more vibrant. Tangela knew she was hot and she wanted the world to know. “I think she’s…I mean…” He trailed off. “I don’t know what to say.”
“Doesn’t she look incredible?” Payton watched him intently for several seconds. “I already finished reading the article. Go on,” she ordered, “take it.”
Warrick stepped back. “I can’t. I have work to do.” As he turned away, he made a point of saying, “And so do you.”
At five o’clock that afternoon, Warrick emerged from the conference room feeling tired and spent. Preoccupied in his thoughts, he continued down the hall, reviewing in his mind the conversation he’d had with the group of Japanese investors. As he passed his assistant’s desk, he noticed the People magazine sitting on a stack of manila files. No longer safely tucked away in the side drawer with the other tabloids, it sat on the middle of Payton’s desk, mocking him, teasing him, a painful reminder of the woman he’d loved and lost.
Glancing around, he flipped it open and scanned the table of contents. “Amazing Weight-Loss Stories,” Page 87. But before he could locate the article, Payton appeared out of nowhere. “Looking for something?” she asked innocently.
“No.” Sliding his hands into his pockets, he jangled the loose coins. “I need to clear my head. I’ll be back in fifteen minutes.”
“The Web conference went that bad, huh?”
“Worse. They’re threatening to find another firm.” He stood there quietly, a reflective expression on his face. “But I’ll think of something.”
Drumming her manicured nails on the desk, she looked carefully around the office. “Is there anything you need before I go?”
“No, I’ll see you tomorrow. Have a good night.”
“I will. Jerell’s taking me to see Lord, Why Me Again? at the Arts Center.”
“Poor guy.” He chuckled heartily. “Your husband has my deepest sympathies.”
Payton giggled. “It’s fun, the acting is great and the audience really gets into the show.”
“I bet,” he deadpanned, a miserable expression on his face. “Sorry, but it’s just not my thing. Tangela forced me to watch one on DVD and I hated it.”
“Relationships are about give and take. Jerell goes with me to the plays, and I leave him alone when he’s watching football. It’s called compromise. You—” she patted his back “—should try it sometime.”
“That’s why I’m single. I can work as much as I want without anyone getting on my case.” He made sure to add, “And that’s how I like it.”
“Sounds lonely.”
Sensing she wanted to say more, he said goodbye and
